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With a body wrapped in a crimson dress, she bears a violent temper.
Shining daylight, raging bewitching, captivating cunning.
You arrive with starry eyes and cheeks flushed like a ******.

In her curly hair, autumn curtains hang—roaming rays hot.
She glows in the night like a pictorial wall with hieroglyphics concealing madness.
You step elegantly, but you're a dangerously stealthy predator.

Grassy hills in floating flames burn beneath a voluminous haze.
Her look describes fabulous waterfalls, endlessly flowing and shining in the coming dawn. You associate with robbers and kings, but they do not understand, and no one will save you.

Lovely eyes sprinkle enchanting rays, her lips intertwined like a rose petal.
Her heart enticingly calls with her fruit to be drunk.
You hide in the nightlife, dress up, and do your love magic.

Neck fashioned in autumnal garments, wearing scarlet ruby earrings.
Her pink skin smells of perfume, inviting like a grape on a vine.
You invite visitors with your charm to carelessness, forever forced.

Her lips are flowing bewitching rivers—intersecting strokes of crimson. They bring a dream to taste her deep soils and her artfully carved forms.
You are determined to captivate without marrying— you stay lost in rebellion.
Svetoslav Sep 15
Daylight messenger rests in sky alleys
Shining like snowy pearls
He glides with the scent of the valley

Fairy mist wraps up the cores of roses
Awaking their youth's aroma
Morning carries a bliss of chroma

With roots inside the earthly womb
Their cosmic songs flow
Feeding our senses with goodness

Enigmatic spirits
Has their beauty shown
The valley offers her rich growth

Petals majestic thrive crimsoned with a glee
Their oils are a blessing to all
Green forms breathe, apples, and grass sculpted within a scene

In the Land of Roses
Bulgaria, oh jewel in the wild
Your wheat and your goods spring from deep like the waters
There is an invaluable old Bulgarian manuscript in the British Library in London – the Four Gospels of Tsar Ivan Alexander. Below it is the inscription “Bulgarian Empire” or in other words, the British say that Bulgaria was an Empire! Moreover, in the English “History of Nations” by Arnold Toynbee, it is said that there are a total of 21 civilizations in the world, one of which is the Bulgarian. The Bulgarians were the most numerous people, who, thanks to their attractive culture, increased their borders from Crimea to Belgrade and from the Carpathians to the White Sea in ancient times called Thracian! ”In the Byzantine Troparion from the end of the first millennium it reads: they were once the fairest of all nations, and of all the world’s most revered virtues, and themselves attained great glory, and the cities and nations joined them voluntarily.
Svetoslav Jul 23
Somewhere in the night, shadows smolder in desolation,
humble branches dissolve in solitude.
Following the moonbeams to the branches, owls,
the birds of the night, licked in sorrows perch on top.

With a prayer they spread the darkness like a carpet on earth,
the raging flame does not subside, but angrily slides along the height, the wind whispers, but does not subside,
the dawn kisses the fields with its colors.
Somewhere in the night, in unison with the pale shore and sea,
the wind blows cold, the rain pours,
showering the soil with sadness, fluttering the veil of light.

Birds fly to a frantic memory, magical,
to cleanse their souls, to sow children's peace,
obsessed with clarifying the world, they embrace their children,
with their wings they press them tightly, and to the feasts in the spring bloom, they fly bearing peace on their backs, and keep their covenant.

Somewhere in the night, lilies on the river sway gently in deaf silence. Sparks go out under the veil of shadowy words,
and the dust noisy, and the ashes hot, colored by the firmament
and nature loving wrap our life towards eternity.

The night whispers, the wind blows on the branches,
the harvest grows and fills the fields, the leaves tremble,
with a slight tremor the universe shakes the vines.
And let the rain fall for a long time, whispering rhythmically,
a song gently sings, so fabulously ringing,
it pours over the plains, crumbles the rocks and flourishes.

Somewhere in the night where death and life intersect,
and the silent trunks absorb sleep from the fields,
there the shadows smolder in the mist, where the stems are tender
and showered by the rain build the leaves.

The night whispers, the mountain turns black,
bathed in dew, the bushes rustle like autumn leaves,
and the sky is showered with bright beads.
Flocks of birds fly over scorching fields,
the stars speak verses, and kindle the morning spark,
the day dawns, the gardens ripen, and the birds find new land.
translated from Bulgarian
Svetoslav Jul 5
A taste of your wine
Cinnamon tempting
Sugar so sweet
Embalms my mouth with an apple drip
It sends me a rain of bliss

Your breath makes me twine around.
A strand so strong
And your voice is so sweet
You send me into a trance with your mead
Bite my lips, whisper love with your kiss

I wish to taste your red wine
Tangerine sweet and the sun warm
Dream of heaven we stay in for evermore
Where we dance together in the moonlight
And we wake with joyful eyes in the sunlight

Bright and crystal water falling down the hill
A unique trip forever to enjoy
Embalm my mouth with an orange drip
Send my being in a bliss
Bite my lips, whisper to me love with your kiss
Svetoslav Jul 5
smile of a sparkling silver
shining with jewels in a thousand linings
a girl gazes at the stars declining.

below the tinge of a moon outline, light peeps
in her way soaring from blossoming skies
doves grab the fire within her eyes

a thatch of thick rose hair
rests on her shoulder and blazes in dark flare
it curls to the voice of her prayer

she weeps her shadow, couched inside his clutch
teardrops flow as rain toppling on a puddle
shaky as branches, she struggles
Svetoslav Jun 29
Irreverent smiles hid beneath the falling day.
Sharpened claws to hook into prey.
Predator eyes lurking above a black disguise.
War is a pacifier for the unwise.

Over a dusty river circled under red skies.
Flowing in the wind, it sounds like a thousand cries.
War drips her blood from the nose and mouth.
Drinks azure oceans to usher infernal drought.

Rubbing hands in a great mess of unclean.
War is a smoking pipe that numbs all being.
Grey curtains separate infants and a mother's milk.
It forces internal wounds to soak on red silk.

War flies like an owl in the dark.
It mirrors her eyes in a burning spark.
Machine scourge dispatched the meek.
Youth lies iced on a lambent specters' peak.
Svetoslav Jun 29
I was secretly praying that you and I would get closer.
Was I right to try?
Loneliness like a dull blade is piercing me deeply inside my cage.
You alienated and became a peak unattainable.
— I remain an unturned page.

~ ∰ ~

Seduced by your warm voice.
Dazzled by you, I went into trouble's way.
Your words set the night on fire and sow passion to rejoice.
Under your hot ashes, I'm withering away.
I'm left alone in my world to struggle.

~ ∰ ~

And long may the winter storm howl
It will whisper to my ears
Outside in the wilderness, a wildcat's growl
Let the branches intertwine and boil the skies.
I will hide under the lust of your eyes.

~ ∰ ~

Silence like raindrops has fallen on me.
Wondering at night why you betrayed me
And if the stars twitch, the pain will not stop.
And a crimson color to cover my body
A mournful scream still echoes in my world.
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